


Jamais Vu

by miss_grey



Series: Willowsbend [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drowning, F/M, Folklore, I'm so sorry this got way sadder than I intended, M/M, Minor Character Death, Officer Dean, Officer!Dean, Original Character Death(s), Tragedy, Witch Castiel, willowsbend verse, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is sworn to protect the town of Willowsbend, and he takes his job seriously.  Somewhere along the way, however, he realized he wasn't alone; he has a great partner named Benny, his brother Sam, a bunch of crazy friends, and of course, his long-term partner Cas, who just so happens to be a witch.  </p><p>When Cas moved to the town of Willowsbend, he did so with two goals in mind: 1) Start a coffee shop, and 2) fit in.  So far, things are going according to plan, but somewhere along the way, he got sucked into small-town life, and he found himself getting attached to the residents of Willowsbend.  Cas does what he can to care for his friends, but he's learning that it's not always easy.</p><p>When a newcomer arrives in Willowsbend and takes an interest in one of their own, the residents of Willowsbend are forced to examine their own preconceptions, and they're reminded not to take what they love for granted, because it could easily be stripped away from them.  After all, children can be so trusting....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, folks! Hope you enjoy! :)

 

 

_“There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.”_

_― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke_

 

 

 

      Evan Neustadt was one of those children who wandered wherever he pleased.  That wasn’t to say he was homeless, or without love.  Keeley Neustadt, Evan’s mother, worked hard six days a week to support herself and her son.  But there was never enough money left over to hire a sitter, and Evan was probably too old for one anyway.  But the particulars of the matter were never questioned because in actuality Evan Neustadt was raised and watched by the entire town of Willowsbend.  There wasn’t a public space in all the town where Evan wasn’t welcome, and where he hadn’t spent some of his time.

      Of late, he’d been spending most of his free time in _Delecto,_ at the corner table that he had claimed as his own.  Mostly, Evan spent his time doing homework and drawing, but occasionally he made himself useful around the coffee shop.  He loved it when Cas allowed him to help bake, or decorate when the season called for it.  But most of all, he liked to listen to Cas.  It was more than the witch’s friendly demeanor, or even the comforting rumble of his voice.  Cas _told him things._ Evan was pretty sure that Cas wasn’t even aware of it most of the time; he just chatted while he worked, and Evan was there to hear it.  But Cas spoke about things that filled Evan with delight—things that he’d never hear anywhere else. 

       One day, Cas rambled on about Irish folklore and told Evan all about Samhain and the Fae.  He told Evan that not all of the stories were simply tales—much of what had once passed as legends and myths was true.  The creatures of fairy tales walked the earth—this much Evan knew was true.  Ever since the Supernaturals had made themselves known, Evan had learned to accept that all of the monsters from his fairy tales were real.  But whenever Evan found himself becoming nervous, Cas would always assure him that he was safe—the town of Willowsbend was well looked after.

       Evan believed Cas.

       Cas had saved his life once—he’d found him when no one else would have in time, and he’d done it using his magic.  Then he’d used his magic to haul Evan out of a frozen river, and Cas had nearly died doing it.  But it was more than that.  Cas had given Evan a protective charm after that, a charm that Cas made all by himself and renewed occasionally to make sure the spell was still strong.  Cas said it was something called “passive magic” but Evan wasn’t quite sure what that meant.  The only thing he knew for sure was that whenever he felt lonely or afraid, or hurt, he felt a warmth and a strength emanate from the charm that rested just over his heart.

       The point was that no matter what else, Evan trusted Cas.  That was why, one day near the end of September, while Evan was helping Cas cut cookie dough into the shape of pumpkins, he paused, cocked his head to the side, and asked “Cas… what is the glowing light down by the river called?”

       Cas frowned at him, pausing in the process of rolling out more cookie dough.  “What light?”  he asked, voice taking on _that tone_ that Evan knew meant he was worried.

       “Never mind,” Evan said, glancing back down at all of the unbaked pumpkin cookies waiting to be finished.

 

 

* * *

 

 

       Cas took off early from work that day, leaving the shop in Andy’s capable hands.  It was four o’clock, but far enough into the Fall that the sun was already beginning to dip down toward the horizon.  It wasn’t dark yet, but Cas knew that it would be within a couple hours; in the meantime, the sky had that golden hue to it that it gets only during the months of September and October, almost as though the sky were competing with the changing leaves that rustled in the cool breeze that blew in over the mountains.  Cas wandered, his hands shoved into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans—they were actually a pair of Dean’s that he’d stolen that morning rather than digging through the laundry for his own.  He kicked at pebbles, shoes scuffing against the muddy shoreline of the river.  To any observer, he appeared idle—wasting the evening away with a leisurely stroll.  No one else in Willowsbend would have been able to tell that Cas was most definitely active, most definitely aware.  He stretched his senses further with each lingering step, searching for any hint of a supernatural disturbance nearby.  Evan’s comment had been bugging him all afternoon, and Cas had decided to figure out what the boy was talking about. 

       Cas paused at the edge of the river, not far from the place where he’d pulled Evan to shore.  Not far from where Cas himself had nearly drowned less than a year before.

       He couldn’t feel anything unusual.

 

 

 

       That night, when Cas returned home, he found Dean making stew in his kitchen, Nox twining around his socked feet.  Cas allowed himself to smile at the sight, relaxing and breathing easy, knowing that the man he loved was safe and content.  He sidled up next to Dean, who flashed him a grin, when their shoulders bumped.  Cas peeked into the boiling pot and inhaled deeply.  He stomach rumbled at the rich smell of cooking meat and vegetables, and he realized he’d forgotten to eat lunch at the shop that day.

       “How was work?”  Dean murmured, switching the stove to low so that the stew could simmer for a bit longer.

       “It was good,” Cas said, leaning into Dean’s space for a quick kiss, before he slumped down at his little kitchen table.  “Evan and I made pumpkin sugar cookies today.”

       “And you didn’t bring me any?”  Dean asked with a playful quirk of his brow.

       Cas snorted.  “They’re for the customers, Dean.  If you want some, you’ll have to stop by in the morning.”

       Dean smirked.  “Like I’d miss an opportunity like that.  You know how I feel about your baking, Cas.”

       Cas allowed himself an easy grin.  “Oh, I definitely know.  Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll save you one.”

       “Tease,” Dean growled, shoving at Cas’s shin under the table. 

       “How was your day?” 

       Dean rolled his eyes and slumped further in the seat.  “Long.  Mostly boring.  I got to listen to Garth talk about his vegetable garden for like… two hours today.” 

       For the next twenty minutes, Dean told Cas all about Garth’s vegetables, and how Benny had stared bemusedly at the other officer throughout the explanation.  Finally, though, Dean deemed the stew “good enough” and he dished up two bowls for himself and Cas.  Cas took one bite and had to force back a groan—it was delicious, and he told Dean so. 

       Cas was halfway through his second bowl of stew when he paused, brow furrowed, and asked “Have you gotten any reports of strange lights near the river?”

       Dean frowned, spoon poised in front of his lips.  “No…. Why?”

       Cas shrugged, but the motion was jerky, betraying Cas’s agitation, despite his effort at shrugging the matter off.  “It’s just something Evan mentioned.”

       Dean nodded, thankfully understanding Cas’s concern.  “Me and Benny will keep our eyes open.”

      “Thank you.”

 

 

 

        Despite his best efforts to let the matter go, somehow Cas found himself adopting the habit of taking walks near the river every evening after he left _Delecto._ The days were steadily growing shorter, and his shadow grew longer on the path ahead of him.  Evan hadn’t mentioned anything since that first day, but there was something in the question that Cas couldn’t forget.  The boy’s words had triggered a memory of his— _folklore scrawled in a journal that his grandfather had left him, complete with the image of a lantern floating on air, welcoming in the surrounding darkness._   The word teased at the edges of his mind, a name that he held back, just in case.

        One evening, though, while he was making his usual loop near to the river, he saw it.  It was just as Evan had mentioned.  It was a glowing light near the edge of the water, hanging over a clump of reeds—it was blue and beautiful, hypnotizing—and Cas knew instantly what it was.  He stopped suddenly, jaw tightening, fingers twitching, but before he could decide what to do, the light disappeared, and Cas was left alone again.

        He debated for hours on whether or not he should tell Dean, but he finally decided to wait.  At least until he’d had a chance to speak with Evan again.

 

 

 

       The next morning, Cas waited until the Women’s Club had had their coffee and cleared out of the shop before he approached Evan and slumped in the empty chair across from where the boy was busy drawing a picture of two children playing.  “I saw it,” Cas started, watching Evan’s face with forced casualness.

       “Saw what?”  Evan asked, frowning as he dragged the tip of his pencil roughly over one corner of the paper to give the impression of darkness.

       “The glowing light at the river.”  As soon as the words left his lips, Evan’s head snapped up and his blue eyes focused on Cas.  “Do you still want to know?”

       “Yes.”  The word left the boy as a whisper, barely heard in the stillness of the shop.

       “It’s a will o’ wisp.  Legend says that they’re spirits that are doomed to spend eternity wandering the earth.  They dwell near rivers and bogs, and forests.  They appear as beautiful, welcoming lights, but a will o’ wisp isn’t to be trusted.  Not ever, though you may want to.  They lead travelers astray, usually to their deaths.”

       “Why?”  Evan asked, biting at his lower lip.

       Cas shrugged.  “It’s their nature.  It’s just what they do.”

       Evan shook his head and lowered his eyes back to his drawing, murmuring “Well, that can’t be right.”

       Cas frowned, and asked “Evan… what do you mean by that?”  But the boy refused to say anything else.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

        “Alright, what’s wrong?”  Dean sighed later that night when he and Cas were curled together on the couch simply relaxing before bed.  “You’ve been staring at the same page for like the last…” Dean glanced at his watch and snorted.  “Fifteen minutes.  Spill.”

        “I’m worried,” Cas murmured, not even bothering to tear his gaze from the book he still held tightly in his hands.

        “’Bout what?”  Dean asked, as he scooted closer so that his knee brushed Cas’s.

        “Evan.”

        “Why?” Dean suddenly sat up straighter.  “What happened?”

        “He’s keeping something from me.  And I, well… there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

        Dean and Cas never fought, not really…at least, not yet.  But Dean would be lying if he said that he wasn’t upset and disappointed that Cas had kept something so potentially important from him.  It wasn’t just that knowing about and protecting Willowsbend from Supernaturals was Dean’s job, it was that his boyfriend of nearly a year _knew_ how seriously Dean took his job and had decided to keep the new information to himself anyway.  Dean knew that Cas felt protective of Evan, knew that they had a strange but endearing sort of friendship, but hell… Dean had known Evan since he was a baby, and he’d known Keeley long before that.  Evan’s safety wasn’t up to Cas to decide. 

        Dean wanted to stay angry.  He wasn’t the kind of guy who forgave anyone so quickly in the first place, and this felt like a betrayal of trust, no matter how small Cas thought the problem was.  But the fact of the matter was that when it came to Cas, it just hurt too damn much to hold onto that anger.  Later that night, when they crawled into bed, Cas rolled away from Dean to face the door.  He looked smaller like that, hunched in on himself, and too far away for Dean to touch, even if he reached out.  It bothered Dean, honestly.  Much more than he’d ever thought such a simple action could. 

        Some part of him knew that this could become a pattern; he imaged it, then: _crawling into bed together every night but not meeting each other’s eyes, not touching.  Going through the motions every day without ever really connecting._   Dean slammed the door on those upsetting thoughts, swallowed his pride and his anger, and scooted across the empty space of the bed until he could wrap his arms around Cas and press closely against the heat of his back.  He allowed himself a sigh of relief when Cas wrapped his fingers around one of Dean’s wrists and squeezed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

        The next time Cas found himself down by the river, circling along his usual path, his steps stumbled involuntarily when his ears caught an unexpected sound.  He heard laughing, and a familiar voice calling out.  He leapt forward, dashing around a copse of trees, but found himself stunned by the sight that greeted him. 

        Evan and another little boy were playing tag in the tall grass near the water, chasing each other and laughing.  Cas watched for a moment, confused by this unexpected turn of events, and also because he had never seen this other child before.  The boy looked like he couldn’t have been any older than ten, and would have perhaps reached the middle of Cas’s chest.  He had chestnut colored skin, and a spray of black hair formed a halo around his head.  He wore a white shirt and worn gray trousers, held in place by a single suspender.  Cas realized he was also barefoot, and through his confusion, he felt the urge to scoop the boy up and take him someplace warm, tell him it wasn’t healthy to run around in the cold evening air with no shoes on.  Despite those details, though, Cas was able to focus on the game.  The boy’s laugh was melodic and strong, and it echoed lightly through the clearing.  He darted through the grass, easily maneuvering around tangles of roots, as he swiped at Evan, who dodged his grasping fingers.

        Cas stood there, frozen in what felt like a moment from another time, long ago.  But the fragile, golden-tinged scene was shattered when the strange little boy turned and happened to catch sight of Cas.  He stumbled, and flinched, and he hesitated for only a moment before he leapt into the air, and shifted into a glowing ball of light in the same instant, zipping away into the dark shadows of the trees.  Evan called out after him, confused and disappointed, hollering “Hey, what did you do that for?”  But then he turned as well, spotted Cas, and froze, his blue eyes going wide.

 

 

       It didn’t take much convincing to get Evan to go back to the coffee shop with Cas.  They were silent for the drive, the air thick between them with secrets, and neither seemed to quite know how to break it.  Andy was still behind the counter when they arrived, but Cas let him leave early and turned the sign on the door to “closed” as soon as Andy had left.  Evan sank sullenly into his usual chair, and didn’t even perk up when Cas slid a glass of chocolate milk in front of him, before sitting across from the boy.  They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, wary, before Cas finally took a deep breath, and decided that since he was the adult, he’d probably have to start this conversation.

       He folded his hands in front of him, relaxed back into his chair as much as he could, and said, voice coaxing, “Will you tell me the truth, now?”

       Evan shrugged, skin paler than normal under his spray of reddish-brown freckles.  “I guess.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Evan wandered a lot, even when he knew that he wasn’t supposed to.  He couldn’t help it, really.  He’d just gotten so used to going where he wanted during the day, that sometimes he forgot about the time, or where he was supposed to be._

_This wasn’t the first time it happened—that Evan found himself too far from town as the sun sank behind the horizon and the sky grew dark around him while he played._

_He should have been more careful around the river; he knew that.  After what had happened just the year before, Evan figured that most kids would be scared of drowning.  Scared of dying.  But he just wasn’t.  Not really, anyway._

_He couldn’t ignore the slide of cold dread down his spine, though, as he realized how dark it suddenly was.  He’d forgotten about the time while he was skipping stones on a wide part of the river.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been to that place, but it was a long way from town, and it was the first time he’d been out there so late.  He wasn’t scared until he realized that everything looked different at night._

_Evan tried to get back to the path he’d become familiar with, but he couldn’t seem to find it in the dim light of the slow-rising half-moon.  He blundered through tall grass, his feet catching on roots that he couldn’t see in the darkness.  He clenched his fists and bit his lip to keep his panic at bay.  He wouldn’t cry.  He wouldn’t._

_Still, tears stung Evan’s eyes after more than a half hour of walking when he realized that he was truly lost.  Everyone was going to be so worried about him—they’d probably send out the police again to look for him.  And Cas might be mad.  His mom would cry.  And that was all IF he could manage to get back home in one piece.  Evan bit harder at his lip to keep the tears back.  He wanted to go home, but he was afraid of walking any further in case he was just going the wrong way.  He couldn’t tell anymore._

_His legs were tired, and the moon had risen high enough in the sky to worry him.  He’d long since quit fighting the tears, and the skin of his cheeks was tight from the dried salt tracks.  He was so tired.  He just wanted to sit down and rest.  Sleep.  Maybe he could curl up next to a tree and just wait for the sun to come up.  Maybe he could…._

_His thoughts ground to a halt when he caught his first glimpse of the light through the tangle of tree branches, far enough away that Evan might be able to hide from whoever it was, but close enough that he should have heard someone approaching.  The light bobbed closer, a soft blue glow in the darkness that seemed to call to Evan, and comfort him.  Maybe he wasn’t lost anymore._

_“H-hello?”  He called, voice hitching from all the crying he’d done.  The light stopped, for just a moment, before it came closer, swinging now, like someone was holding one of those old lanterns in front of them.  “Who’s there?”_

_“It’s just me,” a voice called from the darkness.  “Just me.  You lost?”_

_Evan didn’t recognize the voice, and he was suddenly afraid again, for a whole different reason.  “Who are you?”_

_Suddenly the light grew brighter, and Evan had to shield his eyes against it.  But when his vision adjusted, he lowered his arm and saw a boy staring back at him, strange blue eyes glowing in the darkness, casting shadows across his dark skin.  “You lost?”_

_Evan swallowed thickly, still afraid.  “Yes.”  He nodded._

_The other boy dipped his head in understanding.  “Me too.”  He said, voice suddenly very sad.  “I’ve been wandering for such a long time.  I’m real tired.”_

_“It’s too dark to see the way back.”  Evan hiccupped._

_The boy nodded.  “I have a light though.”  He tipped his head to the side and the strange light of his eyes softened for a moment.  “I’m Malachi.”_

_“Hi.”  Evan took a breath to steady his voice.  “I’m Evan.”_

_Malachi smiled, and the expression was sweet, friendly.  Hopeful.  “I don’t wanna be lost anymore.”_

_“Me neither.”_

_Malachi held out a hand to Evan, who glanced at it warily.  “Come with me, Evan.  I bet we can find our way back together.”_

_Evan hesitated for just a moment.  He felt his protection charm pulse warmth against his chest.  He reached a hand out and grasped Malachi’s._

_Malachi held tightly to his hand and pulled Evan along beside him through the darkness.  Evan was still scared, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before, when he was alone.  He and Malachi didn’t talk, but the other boy’s hand was warm against his own, and it made Evan feel better._

_He wasn’t sure how long, or how far they walked, but his tired legs began to ache, and his feet were sore after stumbling several times along the path.  Evan didn’t recognize anything that he saw, and his throat was tight with fear that he and Malachi were going the wrong way, that they were going further and further from town.  “We’re lost,” Evan whispered hopelessly into the darkness._

_Malachi grasped his hand tighter and murmured back “We’re finding our way back though.”_

_Evan wiped the tears from his face with his free hand and kept walking._

_It seemed like they were walking forever, but finally,_ finally, _Evan saw the lights from town shining through the trees, and his heart gave a hopeful jump.  “We’re back, Malachi!  We did it!  We’re home!”_

_“Yes.”  Malachi sighed, a smile curling his lips as he closed his eyes.  “Home.”  Evan let go of his hand as he took a step toward the lights of town, and in the same instant, Malachi was gone, but Evan saw a bright blue flash disappear back into the trees.  He couldn’t help the shiver of fear that skittered down his spine, but he forced himself to put it aside, and he quickly made his way back to his own home._

_He was grateful when he reached his own front porch.  Even more grateful to realize that his mom was still at work, and that no one had noticed he was missing._

 

* * *

 

       Evan finished his story with a quiet murmur, and sat in the silence for a long moment before he got the courage to raise his eyes to Cas’s.  He was surprised to find tears in Cas’s eyes, and he didn’t even bother trying to fight when Cas came around the table and lifted Evan up into a tight hug that nearly squeezed the air out of his lungs.

       “You’re so lucky,” Cas murmured in his ear.  “So lucky.  You could’ve… he could’ve…. Will o’ wisps lead people into the darkness, Evan.  They let them die.”

       Evan nodded, patting Cas softly on the back, because he knew that Cas needed it in that moment.  “Malachi didn’t though, Cas.  He’s my friend.  He led me home.”

       Cas choked on a sob.  “You’re right.  I guess he did.”

 

 


	2. Part II

 

 

            It was late in the evening, the sun long sunk behind the tree line on the horizon, by the time Cas made it to Dean’s house.  Cas sighed, feeling tired and old, worn-out, as he shut the creaky door of his car and ascended the steps to the farmhouse.  The door wasn’t locked, and warm yellow light spilled out of the curtained windows—as Cas pushed the door open, he was bathed in light and warmth—a welcome change after the chill and dark of the river bank.  Even _Delecto_ hadn’t felt this welcoming, this safe, after everything.

            Cas was shaken.  Upset.  Confused.  He’d learned that day that there was plenty that went on around him, right under his nose, that he was simply totally unaware of.  Evan Neustadt had wandered Willowsbend long before Cas moved to the town, and no doubt he would continue to do so until he was old enough to live on his own or he decided to move away.  Cas didn’t like the idea, but he had become used to it.  Now, though, he couldn’t find it in himself to remain calm over the issue.  Evan had met a new Supernatural; worse, he’d apparently _befriended_ it, and none of them had been the wiser.  This creature, Malachi, was not a real boy.  He was a Will o’ Wisp.  They weren’t to be trusted, couldn’t be, despite what Evan said.  The boy had pleaded with him not to do anything, not to mention it, but Cas had made no such promises.  If there was a Wisp in Willowsbend, everyone needed to know about it.  It was no small occurrence, and in fact, it posed a real danger to everyone who lived there.  It was true—in the lore at least, it was generally the unwary who fell victim to the Wisps, but where did children fall?  They were so naturally trusting.  And Evan….  Well, Evan had always liked to wander.

 

 

 

            Dean was sprawled on the couch in front of the tv, watching something on the Discovery channel—something about fishing, Cas thought—when he made his way into the living room.  Dean’s eyes were droopy and shadowed with exhaustion, but he still turned and smiled when Cas made his way over to join him on the couch.  “It’s late,” Dean murmured.  “What kept you?”

            Cas sat gingerly near Dean’s feet, but couldn’t make himself lean back and relax, despite his own tiredness.  “I learned a lot tonight, and you need to know.  I came as soon as I could.”

            Dean was suddenly much more attentive—an officer of the law instead of a drowsy boyfriend.  “Tell me.”

            Cas related everything he’d learned from his own observations, and the story that Evan told him.  Dean’s face grew darker with concern as each word passed Cas’s lips.  Cas understood.  He felt the same way.  After he’d finished his story, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  “We’ll have to investigate this.”

            Cas nodded.  “I want to help.”

            Dean shook his head emphatically.  “No way, Cas.”

            “What?”  The edge to his own voice surprised him.

            “Look, don’t take it personal, alright.  It’s just that now, this is police business.”

            Cas stared at Dean’s face, utterly incredulous.  “I’ve helped you with investigations before, Dean!”

            Dean flinched at Cas’s tone, but put his hands up placatingly.  “I know, and I’ve always appreciated your help, but you’re too close to this case, Cas.”

            Cas’s eyes narrowed and his voice came out with a growl when he said “Are you implying I wasn’t too close when I helped you solve the case of the incubus that looked exactly like me who had been sucking the life out of you through sex dreams?”

            Dean’s face fell and he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.  “Cas, I didn’t mean it like that, alright?”

            Cas sat back, suddenly feeling unsure of himself and not knowing how he got to that point.  “Whatever.  I’ll look into it myself.”

            Dean’s eyes narrowed as well.  “Cas—I can’t let you do that.  It’ll interfere with the investigation.”  Dean reached a hand out toward Cas tentatively, but the other man pulled away sharply, eyes still hard.

            “I’ll do whatever I have to, in order to keep the people I love safe, Dean.”

            Dean dropped his hand back to his lap, now just as confused and upset as Cas.  He sighed.  “So will I.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

            The next day, Dean and Benny began their methodical search of the riverside.  They split the area into quadrants and began to canvass the area, searching for anything that might give them a lead.  Dean wasn’t an expert on will o’ wisps—frankly the part of his job concerning supernaturals was a constant learning process, and he never felt like he was fully prepared for anything he encountered while on the job.  But he’d been paying attention to everything Cas had told him about the creatures, and so he thought he knew where to start at least.  Cas had said that they were malevolent spirits that wandered near woods, rivers, and bogs.  It was in their nature to lead travelers astray, sometimes to their deaths.  He couldn’t have that in his town.  Wouldn’t allow it.  Despite what Cas and Evan had said about the creature helping the boy, Dean wasn’t buying it.  Not without his own proof.  First, though, they had to find the thing.  Dean just wasn’t sure how to go about doing that.

            After about six hours of searching the river bank and thick reed beds with no luck, Benny swiped a hand across his sweaty brow and asked, “You sure this is the right place, brother?”

            Dean frowned down at the thick mud under his boots.  “Yeah.  This is where Cas said he saw the wisp.”

            Benny frowned at him for a minute, seeming to hesitate before he carefully ventured “Don’t you think it’d save time and make more sense to just…ask Cas to come out and help?”

            Dean shook his head.  “Can’t do it.  Told Cas I didn’t want his help on this one.  Actually, I told him he _couldn’t_ help with the investigation.”

            Benny’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he huffed.  “And why in the hell would you do that?  He probably knows more about the case than anyone else.”

            Dean shrugged half-heartedly.  “I told him he was too involved, personally, and that it would interfere with the investigation.”

            Benny whistled lowly.  “Well, shoot.  You went and got yourself in hot water with your boy, didn’t you?”

            Dean sighed.  “You could say that.  He refused to stay at the house last night.”

            “So what are you gonna do, then?  About the case, not your love life.”

            Dean thought for a minute, one detail nagging at the back of his mind.  “Cas knows supernaturals and magic better than the rest of us, sure, but he doesn’t know Willowsbend better than I do.  I think I know who can help.”  Dean glanced up at his partner. “You mind continuing the search for a while longer?  There’s someone I need to talk to.”

            “Sure thing, brother.  Keep me posted.”

 

 

 

            The Willowsbend Historical Society was a one man operation, run out of a small building situated behind town hall.  Dean had never bothered with it much—at least, not since he’d taken history in high school.  It wasn’t that he thought it was unimportant, it was just that Dean had other things on his mind most of the time—and those things concerned the present.  Dealing with crime and supernatural forces had never before led him here, and now he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, but Dean had a gut feeling that the information he needed was here.

            The sign on the front door read: _Hours: noon-4pm Weekdays_ and underneath it, scribbled in sharpie, was the addendum: _OR WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT_

            Dean snorted and glanced at his watch.  It was nearing 2pm, so he pushed the door open and entered into the building.  It was basically just as he remembered: an assortment of tables scattered around the room, and rows upon rows of shelves, holding books and folders.  Filing cabinets lined the walls.  As Dean shut the door behind him, the town historian, Rufus Turner, poked his head around one of the shelves, looked Dean up and down, and said “Dean Winchester, what brings you here to bother me on this fine day?”

            Dean rolled his eyes.  He knew Rufus well—the grumpy old man was Bobby’s best friend, and Dean had grown up with him around.  Still, it seemed like the guy wasn’t gonna give him an easy time of asking for help.  To save himself any extra trouble, though, Dean decided to get straight to the point.  “I’m working on a case that I think you might be able to help me with.”

            Rufus’s eyebrows rose and his mouth turned up at the corner.  “Oh, really?  And what might this case concern?”

            “The disappearance of a boy named Malachi.  A long time ago.”

            Rufus folded his arms and leaned back against one of the shelves, seeming to consider for a moment. “Well, we have all of the birth and death registers in the file cabinet to the left.  How long ago are we talking, here?”

            Dean shrugged.  “At least 50 years, but it could be a lot longer than that.”

            Rufus nodded.  “In that case, you might want to go through the newspapers as well.  I have the local papers from the last hundred and fifty years saved on microfilm in the back room.”

            “And if the person I’m looking for was alive before then?”

            Rufus shrugged.  “Well, I don’t recall the name Malachi, but you could always go through the rest of the personal archive collections that we have here.”

            “And what would be in those?”

            “Old letters.  Some journals and diaries.  You might be surprised by what you find.”

            Dean quirked a brow and looked around the surprisingly orderly room.  “Oh yeah?  Are you ever surprised by what you read here?”

            Rufus smirked at him and wandered over to the birth and death registers.  He withdrew the first large file and laid it carefully on the table closest to Dean.  “Every damn day.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Cas hadn’t bothered to stay with Dean the night of their argument.  He was hurt and offended, and too determined to give in and back down.  There was no way that he could have curled up in the same bed with Dean and fallen asleep like nothing had happened.  After everything that the two of them had been through since Cas had moved to Willowsbend, he’d expected a little more faith and respect from Dean.  Not… _this,_ whatever it was.  Dean, finally putting his foot down.  As an officer of the law, banning Cas from helping with an investigation.  Cas was man enough to say that it upset him.  It wasn’t just about Dean, though, or the fact that Cas was indeed not a police officer.  It was about Evan.  And so what if it was personal?  So what if Cas was invested in the case.  Since when had that been a problem in this town?  Who here wasn’t personally invested in the well-being of the other residents of the town?  Since when had his personal interest in keeping the residents safe ever been a bad thing?  And he’d never _hindered_ an investigation, either.  Usually it was Dean coming to him for help or advice, not the other way around.  Cas couldn’t understand why Dean was being so immovable about this particular case, but it bothered him.

            No matter, though.  Cas was a free man, and despite how much he loved and respected Dean, Dean wasn’t his boss, and he couldn’t control what Castiel did in his free time.

            Cas had wanted to go straight to the river to investigate some more, but he had a feeling that he might run into Dean there, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble between them.  And besides, he really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with Dean at the moment.  So instead of rushing into a potentially frustrating and awkward situation, Cas did what came the most naturally to him: magic.

            Divination was not a branch of magic that Cas felt particularly comfortable dabbling in, mostly because it made him feel uneasy to know anything about the future.  Still, he kept the necessary tools with him, just in case, and now he was glad for it.

            Scrying was deceptively easy to do—one could do it with a great many different tools—the surface of water, mirrors, crystals, even fire, were good sources for looking into _elsewhere,_ be it past, present, or future.  The problem was being able to handle what you saw, and being able to separate yourself from the visions once you were done.  Cas had heard stories when he was younger of people who lost control while they were scrying, and saw things that they’d never meant to see, never wanted to see.  The most cautionary tale Cas had for scrying wasn’t even about magic, not really.  Nietzsche had once said that if you look into the abyss, the abyss looks also into you.  It was the same for scrying.   There was always the chance that when a witch spied upon outside forces, they would unintentionally draw the attention of those forces as well.  It was generally not a chance Cas was willing to take.  But today his purpose for scrying in the polished obsidian mirror was simple: he wanted to know whether or not Dean or Benny was at the river.

            The vision was very straightforward: he saw the river, and a police cruiser driving away.  Boot prints drying in the mud. 

            So they had been there, but weren’t any longer.  Good.

 

 

 

            It had been a long time since Cas had done a working like this one.  He wasn’t scrying now—not like before, anyway.  But he _was_ trying to connect with something outside of himself.  Not the wisp itself—even he was not so foolish.  But he was trying to connect with whatever information the environment could provide him with.  There was a reason the wisp was here, now.  Cas knew that.  Even the realm of the supernatural was governed by a kind of reason.  Just because people didn’t always understand, didn’t mean that reason didn’t exist.

            The air was just starting to grow chilly as the sun dipped in the sky and began to sink toward the horizon.  It was more than practicality—it was ritual—when Cas rolled his pant-legs up to his knees, untied his shoes, and stashed them in the passenger seat of his car.

            The cold mud of the river bank squished wetly under his feet and between his toes as Cas waded into the shallows a few inches—enough that the soles of his feet were fully submerged in the mud.  The current of the river rippled around him—calm this close to the bank, but Cas knew from experience that it was wickedly strong further out.  The twin slices he’d made on the bottoms of his feet stung where they made contact with the cold mud, but they were necessary—this sort of working demanded a lot of energy, and the only thing Cas had to offer that wouldn’t leave a ripple effect was his own blood.  It would serve as the conduit from this place to his self. 

            Cas glanced around him again for just a moment before he allowed his eyes to slip closed.  He calmed his breathing—in slowly, and out—until his body was silent enough that it meshed with the surroundings.  He concentrated—on the cold water and thick mud, the chill breeze and the dying light of the sun, the whispering of reeds and dry leaves, the rattle-clack of branches knocking together high above his head.  He opened his mind, then, and allowed himself to receive whatever information the world around him was willing to grant him.

            He didn’t expect it to come so clearly, to feel so real.  Cas didn’t know how long he stood there at the shore, but eventually it washed over him, around him, through him:  _Laughter and young voices calling back and forth.  “It’s your turn to count!”  “Go hide, I’ll find you!” Feet slapping against the mud along the bank.  A warm breeze blew by him, and there was another round of laughter.  “You better hurry, I’m comin’!”_

            Cas frowned as the scene changed—his skin grew colder as the sun disappeared, and he was plunged into darkness.  _Loud, worried voices called through the dense tangle of trees_ , _echoing in the darkness.  The lights of lanterns swung through the shadows around him, surrounding him.  “Come quick!  I think I found something!”_

Cas’s heart locked in his chest, and his brows furrowed as his attention was drawn to the reed bed.  It was too much, too painful.  He opened his eyes and looked down into the water at his feet, the imprint of the vision still playing behind his eyes.  It was terrible, and unexpected.  It didn’t make sense, not really.  It wasn’t at all what he’d thought to find out here. 

            A deep, shuddering breath tore from his lungs, and the world came whirling back to Cas, and he realized that hardly any time had passed at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Ruby took a huge bite out of her cheeseburger and stared at Sam across their table at the little diner near their office.  Sam was frowning down into his salad.  Ruby rolled her eyes and swallowed thickly, washing the burger down with a long gulp of her iced tea.  “So, the dynamic duo are fighting, huh?”  Sam nodded glumly, like his own relationship was on the rocks.  “That’s too bad.  They made a good pair, I guess.”  She shrugged.

            “They’re not breaking up.  At least, I don’t think so.”  Sam frowned.  “I hope not.  They’re both just being stupid and stubborn.”  Sam set his fork down and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  “They both think it’s their job to protect everyone they know.”

            Ruby quirked a brow.  “Well…isn’t that _actually_ Dean’s job?”

            Sam snorted inelegantly.  “Don’t remind me.  He does that often enough himself.  And it’s no coincidence he went into law enforcement, alright.  Dean’s been this way since we were kids.  He was always looking out for everyone else.”

            “That’s a good thing, though, right?”

            Sam rolled his eyes.  “Except, apparently, when it comes to Cas.”

            Ruby smirked.  “Well, I can understand that, at least.  Cas is the most powerful witch I’ve ever met.  Boy’s a real live wire.”

            Sam nodded.  “Dean doesn’t see it that way, though, apparently.”

            Ruby shrugged.  “Sounds like a regular lovers’ spat, to be honest.”  She took another large bite of her burger, and asked, mouth half-full, “So why exactly are we getting involved?”

            Sam flashed Ruby his disapproving bitchface at her lack of manners and said “Because Dean is too stubborn to outright ask for help, but he needs it anyway.  And it’s gonna require a good understanding of the supernatural and magic to do it, which unfortunately, I just don’t have.  So, will you help?”

            Ruby rolled her eyes and popped a french fry in her mouth.  “Sure.  Why not?”

 

 

 

            The nice thing about operating your own law office was that you could set your own hours and decide which cases to work on and when.  The other nice thing was when your business partner was also your best friend and not-quite boyfriend.  Ruby wasn’t sure how they’d gotten roped into helping Dean solve a case, especially since Ruby generally spent her time defending her clients against the general population, including law officers.  Still, Sam was as close to family as Ruby had, and that meant that Dean was sort of family as well, by default.  And even though Dean was too stubborn to actually ask for help, or swallow his pride and apologize to his boyfriend, _the powerful witch,_ Sam was pretty worried about him, and so here they were, still at the office long after they would have usually called it a day and gone home.  Their desks were covered with books of lore that Ruby had unearthed from her private collection, and they were sifting through thousands of pages of information to try to find a clue that might help them better understand the strange creature known as a will o’ wisp, among other names.

            A lot of what they found, Ruby already knew—not because she was a scholar, but because she’d kept her ears open growing up in a rural area.  And because her grandparents were Irish.  She knew that wisps were thought to be souls trapped on earth—that was a common theme.  But she was surprised to learn of all the different stories that tried to explain why.  And it was shocking to learn how many cultures around the world reported similar phenomena.  Wisps were everywhere, it seemed, but she hadn’t thought that she’d ever hear of one in Willowsbend. 

            She was knee-deep in an Englishman’s account from the mid-1800s when Sam sucked in a startled breath from across the table and raised his eyes to meet hers.  “What is it?”  She asked, marking her own spot.

            Sam’s eyes were wide and worried as he stared at her.  He licked his lips.  “I think I found something.  It isn’t mentioned in the other sources.”

            “Alright.  What is it?”

            Sam cleared his throat and began to read:   _“The creature known as the Will o’ the Wisp is a master of deception.  The Wisp will most often take the form of a glowing ball of light, resembling a lantern as seen through the trees where it commonly dwells.  Popular folklore holds that Wisps are the souls of the dead that have somehow become trapped between Heaven and Hell and thus are doomed to walk the earth for all eternity.  According to these stories, Wisps are trickster spirits that amuse themselves in their endless existence by intentionally leading travelers astray, often to their own deaths in bogs and rivers.  However, more ancient stories hold that instead, the Will o’ the Wisp is indeed a spirit, but is also a creature that is not, nor has ever been, human.  They are the spirits of something else entirely.  And their nature is not pure mischief as some folklorists hold, but rather a deeper malevolence born out of a complete disregard for human life, and even a conscious desire to end it.  It is my own belief that these older stories shine more light upon the truth of the nature of the Wisp.  I will caution the reader strongly against approaching a Wisp, and suggest avoidance at all cost.  But before I end this treatise, I will add another piece of most curious lore that I have stumbled across, that could prove useful if one ever does find themselves faced with the creature: one of the oldest existing covens that still exists in Britain cites that the Wisp is in fact the spirit of one of the Fae people.  They hold this to be the solemn truth: That depending on how a traveler greets a Wisp, this will determine whether the Wisp leads the traveler to their certain doom, or instead guides them to safety.”_

Sam raised his eyes once more after he’d finished reading and said, voice solemn, “We need to tell Dean and Cas before they do something stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you all think, and any theories you have! :D


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: For minor character death, mention of drowning, and a serious dose of sadness.

 

 

_1802_

_There was little light within the thick tangle of trees outside of the village, except for the occasional glinting shine of lightnin’ bugs hovering among the weeds and branches.  Most often on nights like this, they’d be tucked home safe by this hour, dreamin’ ‘bout the day and the past and the future, and fantastical things.  But there had been a storm earlier in the day, and they’d stayed out to play, utterly uncaring of practicalities, like kids are wont to do.  They’d been drawn further into the forest past their usual haunts by the promising deep puddles that studded the game trail they normally followed.  They’d splashed and poked at the mud with sticks, hunted the elusive, but loud-croaking frogs that normally hid in the shallows of the river-bank, but had moved further out now that the river was swollen with the day’s hard rain.  They should have gone back home a long time ago—they both knew that.  But the night had crept up on them, settling ‘round their shoulders while they were still deep in the midst of their play, and they simply had not finished their game yet.  ‘Sides, with the lightnin’ bugs, there was just enough ethereal light to see by._

_The air was thick and warm, despite the rain, alive with the sounds of insects buzzing, water running, and the huffed breaths and laughter of children. Malachi’s bare feet squished in the thick mud of the path, before he leapt into the soft, mossy litter of the forest floor to muffle his approach.  Somewhere close by, Lizzie crept through the underbrush, trying to find him. She was normally so quiet, but a moment ago, she’d let loose a giggle that alerted Malachi to her direction.  He stalked her through the woods, pretending to sniff her out like one of the wolves that hadn’t been seen near Willowsbend in at least eight years—not since the hunters had taken care of them.  Still, he stopped near a thick patch of blackberry bushes and howled like one of them—he’d meant it to be chilling, but his young voice broke on the high notes, and he squawked.  Lizzie giggled again, and turned toward him._

_She was the hunter, but he loved to tease her, calling from different directions to confuse her.  He moved hiding places many times so that it always took her a long time to find him.  But now she laid in wait for him, crouched near the roots of one of the old willow trees lining the bank of the river, her dress streaked with mud from the game, blonde hair tousled from running through the low-hanging, grasping branches of the woods.  When he peeked around the corner, she grabbed him, laughing at the shock on his face.  “Got you!”_

_Malachi grinned down at her.  “Finally.”_

_Lizzie rolled her eyes.  “It’s your turn to count!”_

_Malachi gave her a nudge back up the path in the other direction.  “Go hide, I’ll find you!”  He turned and hid his face against the tree, laughing as he heard her tear off into the darkness.  “One, two, three,” he called loudly, voice echoing, “You better hurry, I’m comin’!”_

Present day

 

            Dean rolled over in his bed, rubbing at his temples where a headache pounded, cursing under his breath as he reached for his phone.  It was the obnoxious ringing that had woken him but he’d been having a shitty sleep anyway.  Still, he frowned at the phone, and the name flashing there, before he pressed _answer._ “Sammy,” he growled, voice thick, “It is the ass-crack of dawn.  This better be important.”

            “Dean.”  It took one word for Dean to notice how tense his brother’s voice was, one word for Dean to push aside his annoyance and his headache, and sit up, awake and alert now.

            “Sammy.  What’s wrong?”

            “Ruby and I…we found some information that we think is important to your case.”

            “My case?  What are you talking about?  What do you and Ruby have to do with it?”

            “Listen Dean, I think it’s important.  Can we come talk?”

            Dean frowned, but nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him.  “Sure, Sammy.  Come on over to the house—it’s my day off.”

            “Alright.  We’ll be there within the hour.”

            Dean sighed.  “I’ll have coffee made when you get here.”  Then he clicked the phone off and put his head in his hands. 

 

 

            Dean glared mutinously at his coffee pot.  He hadn’t used it in such a long time, and even though he’d spent years drinking his home brew, it just didn’t feel right anymore, and it served to piss him off some more.  Great.  The sun was just starting to break over the horizon, and that meant it was too early for this shit—whatever it was. 

            He’d just pulled three mugs out of the cupboard when he distinctly heard a knock at the front door.  He frowned—Sammy had a key, so why the hell was he knocking?  Unless it was Ruby, being annoying just to irk him at this early hour.  Dean stomped over to the door and yanked it open, fully prepared to bitch at Ruby for being obnoxious, but the words died on his lips, jaw clicking closed, when he realized it was Cas standing on his doorstep.

            They stared at each other for a moment, both awkward and wary with one another, suddenly, inexplicably.  Cas lowered his hand from where it’d been posed to knock again.  Dean watched him do so, brows furrowed.  “Cas.  What’re you doing here?”

            Cas cleared his throat.  “Sam called me early this morning and asked me to come over.  He said there was something very important he had to tell me, but he refused to elaborate over the phone.”

            “Oh.”  Dean made a mental note to smack his brother when he arrived.  “Why’d you knock?  You didn’t lose your key, did you?”

            “No.”  Cas rumbled quietly, and he finally turned his eyes away from Dean’s.  “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate me just walking in.”

            Dean frowned, his heart aching dully at the words.  “Cas--.”

            “Can I come in?”  Cas asked, suddenly all business.

            “Yeah.  ‘Course.”  Dean stepped back and allowed Cas through the door.  “I just made some coffee.  Sam and Ruby should be here soon.”

 

 

            They didn’t have long to wait, thank God, because the kitchen was filled with a tension that had never been between them before.  When Sam and Ruby showed up, they both looked rumpled and exhausted, with bags under their eyes like they hadn’t gotten any sleep in a while.  Dean flicked his eyes over them, seemingly casually, as he checked for any injuries—just to assure himself that they were both okay.  Besides being tired, they both looked fine.  “So—what’s this all about, Sammy?”  Dean was tired and frustrated, and heart-sore, and he just wanted to get to the point of his sudden and cryptic meeting taking place in his kitchen just after dawn.

            Sam ran a hand through his too-long hair and took a deep breath—his eyes were focused on both Dean and Cas, rather than Ruby who stood solid at his back.  “Look, I don’t want either of you to get pissed off or offended here, but, well… we know that you guys are sort of…working on a case right now, but not really…talking…to each other.  And we’re not looking to get in the middle of that, okay, but I wanted to help with the case if I could, so I asked Ruby to help me.”  Dean frowned, ready to tear his brother a new one for putting his nose where it didn’t belong, but then Sam pushed forward.  “We found some info that I think you both need to hear before you go any further with this investigation.”  Dean glanced at Cas to gauge the other man’s reaction, but Cas only had a patient look on his face. 

            “Alright.  Go on—what did you find?”

            It was Ruby who did the explaining, pulling a thin book from her jacket to read them a passage.  The author spoke of human and inhuman souls, of mischief and evil—of dangers in the darkness, and the fate of a person hanging on their manner of treating folk.  It was interesting, sure, and some of it might even have been helpful, but Dean’s mind rebelled against what he’d heard.  His mind was swimming with what he’d learned the day before in the town archives, his heart still sore from the story he’d unearthed. 

            It seemed he wasn’t the only one, either.  Cas cleared his throat, set his coffee down on the counter, and said “There’s been a misunderstanding here—on all of our parts.  I think we’ve gone about this the wrong way from the start.”  Cas licked his lips, and his big blue eyes grew somber.  “There was a tragedy in Willowsbend—long ago.  A child died.”

 

_1802_

_“LIZZIE!”  Malachi called, voice frantic.  He dashed through the trees, feet slapping in the mud—he slid and almost fell, but he caught himself and pushed on.  He’d moved beyond panic now—his eyes stung with frightened tears.  The forest was too close and dark for him to see well, but still he carried on, stumbling through the grasping branches, straining his eyes to see into the darkness.  “Lizzie!”  He’d been searching for her for too long—none of his tricks had worked to oust her from her hiding spot.  He hadn’t heard a peep, no matter that he’d called the game off a while ago and told her she’d won, if she’d just come out and tell him where she was.  But he couldn’t find her, and she wasn’t answering him, and it was so hard to see now.  Malachi stopped and forced himself to heave in a deep breath.  Crickets chirped around him, and he could hear the rapids on the river, rolling over stones.  “Lizzie!”_

Present day

 

            Sam narrowed his eyes at Cas and said “Wait a minute—how do you know this?”

            Cas shifted on his feet, and his eyes suddenly filled with a sheen of tears that he fought to hold back.  Dean wanted to reach for him, but held himself back as well.  Cas took a deep breath and bowed his head.  “I…felt it.  Yesterday, down by the river.  There is so much fear and sorrow out there.  It…it was terrible, what I saw.”

           

 

_1802_

_His panicked shouts roused the town quickly, and mere moments after he’d run into the square, doors were being flung open, and men were gathering around, demanding to know what had happened, and why Malachi, the chandler’s son, was screaming in the middle of the night.  He wasn’t sure how he was able to get the words out through his panic and ragged breaths, but somehow he told the townsfolk that he and Lizzie had been playing hide n’ seek, but now he couldn’t find her, and he was afraid she was lost out in the woods, scared and all alone._

_Everything was a blur after that—the men shouting to each other, rounding up lanterns and dogs to help in the search.  It’d stopped raining a while ago, but the ground was still squishy and their boots sank into the earth as they divided into the darkness to search for Lizzie._

_Lanterns swung in the blackness, seemingly blinking in and out of existence between the dense tangle of trees, like over-sized lightnin’ bugs themselves.  The normally calm and peaceful air was rent with the shouts of the villagers, frantically searching for one of their own.  They’d tried to get Malachi to stay back, but he’d refused.  He climbed through the tangle of trees with the men of the village, his own lantern swinging, as he called desperately for his best friend.  He knew all of their private places, he knew where she always liked to hide.  But she wasn’t there.  She wasn’t anywhere, it seemed.  “Lizzie!”  Malachi’s voice cracked on the word.  “Please, Lizzie, come out!  We’re here!  You don’t have to be lost anymore!  Just say somethin’!  We’ll find you!”_

_But Lizzie never answered them._

_The searched all night, with no luck.  Then, in the early hours of the morning, when the light of the sun had finally managed to pierce through the darkness with a gold and pink glow, a voice rose in the woods—“Come quick!  I think I found something!”_

_They ran to the bank, exhausted and desperate, holding onto the thin thread of hope—that was shattered as soon as they saw what wait for them._

_Malachi fell to his knees in the mud next to the body, sobbing, dark fingers grasping at the too-pale, too-cold skin.  Somehow, during their game, Lizzie had fallen into the river, gotten tangled in the grasping twist of reeds, and drowned._

 

 

Present day

 

            “Wait a second,” Sam interjected, holding up his hand to silence Cas, “a girl drowned?  But…I thought Malachi was the Wisp?  Did he die as well?”  Cas shuddered, and closed his eyes, still haunted by the terrible, heart-breaking image that was seared into his mind.  Sam gasped suddenly, “Oh god, did… did the villagers…?”

            Dean shook his head, then, and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder, uncaring whether it was appropriate right now or not.  “They didn’t hurt him for it—least, I don’t think they did.”  Dean rubbed a hand over his own face, weary of the story, weary of a tragedy that weighed heavy on his heart.  He wished he’d been able to prevent it, felt like he _should_ have been able to—a ridiculous thought, he knew, since the whole affair happened long before he was born.  “And Malachi did die, but not until six years later—of a fever.”

 

 

_1808_

_It was hard to breathe, and his heart was beating arrhythmically.  Sweat poured down his face, but despite that, he shivered under the blankets piled high on his bed.  Everything hurt.  His father sat nearby, head bowed, dabbing at Malachi’s forehead and flushed cheeks with a wet cloth in a vain attempt to lessen the fever.  Weakly, Malachi attempted to swat his father’s hands away and he struggled to sit up.  The world was cast in fuzzy, ghostly grays—everything was confusing and nothing was what it seemed, but Malachi knew there was something he needed to do.  Something he’d been trying to do, something he’d been carrying with him for a long time now.  The pain, the grief hadn’t lessened over time.  Neither had the guilt.  But now, now it seemed it had all just been a horrible nightmare.  Because it was dark in the room, vague lights blinking in and out, and he could smell the river from where he lay.  “Need to go find her, need to find Lizzie,” he murmured._

_Malachi’s father bit his lip to hold back his own ragged sob.  It was a wound that his son, his family, and the village had never been able to move past.  “It’s alright, Malachi.  It’s past.  That was a long time ago, son.”_

_“No,” the boy muttered.  “You don’t understand.  She’s lost out there.  Gotta find her.  Lizzie!”  He called, coughing as he raised his voice.  “Lizzie?!  Where are you?”_

_Malachi’s father struggled to keep him still—all the thrashing about was only making the fever worse.  Malachi fought against his grip, eyes glassy.  He looked past his father, seemingly unseeing now, or at least, seeing something that wasn’t really there, some fever dream._

_“Lizzie!”  Malachi called once more, body shuddering and eyes slipping shut.  “I’ll find you, Lizzie,” he sighed, voice cracking with the effort.  “I promise.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE?! I'm so sorry!


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, it was a long time in the making but it's finally finished! Enjoy :)

 

 

            The second hand ticked slowly, loudly, in the otherwise quiet office.  Already the day felt too long, and the hour hand was just now inching toward 8. 

            It was tense, smothering—it almost felt like there was no air in the office.  Dean was exhausted, but he knew he wasn’t going to be getting any rest today.  He leaned back against his desk, hands clenched against the edge of it, torn between a desire for action, and just wanting to give up and sleep for a year.  Cas sat quietly in the chair in front of him, head bowed slightly, hands clasped in his lap. 

            They’d arrived almost twenty minutes ago and hadn’t managed to say a word to each other yet.  _God damnit,_ Dean cursed himself silently, _why the hell does it feel like this?  Why is this so hard?  What happened to us?_

            He swallowed hard, cleared his throat.  Paused.  Just breathed.  “Look Cas, we need to talk.”

            Cas raised his eyes to Dean’s, and seemed to consider his own words for a moment, cautious, and Dean felt his heart ache.  “I know.”

            “I don’t know how to start,” Dean admitted, “I feel like any time I talk, I say it all wrong.  I don’t want—Cas, I don’t want to screw up anymore here.”

            Cas nodded slowly.  “I know the feeling.  Just… be honest.  Say what you need to say.”

            Dean shifted on his feet, stared into the weary eyes of the man he’d spent the last year with, his best friend, the man he loved, and he decided to do his best.  “I know you can take care of yourself,” Dean began.  “This…thing between us…it was never about that, okay?  I _know_ you’re capable, and I know that you care about everyone in this town.  I _know_ that.”  Dean ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath.  “I love you.”  Dean murmured.

            “I love you, too.”  Cas whispered back.

            “That’s where I keep getting tangled up, man.”  Cas’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, then narrowed in wariness, but Dean waved the look away, and rushed to add: “It’s me, okay?  You met me when I was already an officer, and I guess I mostly had my shit together by then, but Cas—you never knew me before.  When I was younger.  I became a cop for a reason.”

            “Because you feel the need to protect those you care about.”

            Dean shook his head.  “Because I don’t know how _not_ to, Cas.  Do you understand?  I got into that line of work because it’s the only thing there is for me.  It’s my job, but it’s not _just_ my job.  It’s who I am.  I know it’s crazy, and smothering, and I still can’t help myself.”  Dean shook his head sadly.  “I know you can make your own choices, and I have no right to tell you what you can and can’t do.  I know that.  And I’m sorry for how I acted.  But Cas… I can’t promise that I’ll never do it again.”  His lips twitched in a half-hearted attempt at a smirk, but it was sad.  “I’m an idiot like that.”

            “Dean…” Cas sighed.  “You’re not an idiot.  You make mistakes, but…I never expected you to be perfect.  I don’t need you to be.  But,” Cas licked his lips, “I lived too much of my life already dealing with people trying to dictate my actions, and I won’t do it again.  I love you, but you need to let me be who I am, too.  I _can_ take care of myself, and others too.  It’s also what _I_ do, Dean.”  Cas paused and twisted his hands together.  “I’m not going to pretend this mess between us is all your fault, because it’s not.  I’m prideful Dean, and easily hurt.  I know that.  Sometimes I feel things too closely.  But I think that if you and I spent more of our time trying to work together to protect the ones we care about, rather than fighting over it, we’d be more effective.  This…you and me… it’s worth working at, Dean.  I want to work at it, and try to do better.”

            “Me too, Cas.”

            They continued to stare at each other silently for a moment, both of them caught up in everything that they’d just confessed to each other, trying to work their way through it.  They might have said more, might even have reached out for the other, but the silence of the office was broken by a sharp knock at the door.  Dean sighed, flashed Cas a look of apology, and called for the person to come in.

            The door creaked open a crack and Evan shuffled in wearily, his clothes rumpled, and dark circles around his usually bright eyes.  Dean and Cas both straightened immediately, on guard.  “Evan,” Dean said, pushing away from his desk, “what happened?  Are you alright?”

            Evan glanced at both of them and waved off their obvious concern.  “I’ve been looking for you.  I stopped at the coffee shop first, but Andy said you were both here.”

            “What do you need, Evan?”  Cas asked, his voice rough from exhaustion. 

            Evan frowned for a moment, his young face taking on a stern look of resolve, and then he looked them both in the eyes before saying “I want you both to leave Malachi alone.  You don’t understand him at all.”

            “Evan,” Dean began, reaching for the boy, but Evan jerked back, chin turning defiant.

            “I won’t let you hurt him.”

            “We don’t want to hurt anyone,” Cas murmured soothingly, “we just want…no, we _need_ to understand.”  Cas bit his lip, contemplating his next words for a moment before asking “Do you think he’d talk to us?”

            Evan glanced back and forth between Dean and Cas, weighing them, judging their intentions, before his shoulders slumped slightly and he conceded “Maybe.”

 

 

 

 

 

            It was only fitting that they go down to the river for this, Dean thought, despite the fact that Cas probably could have summoned him anywhere. 

            It was just the three of them.  Dean knew that maybe he should call Benny, or Keeley, or hell, even Sam or Ruby, but that didn’t feel right either.  Somehow, it felt right, just the three of them.

            The mid-morning air was cool and calm, and the reed bed was empty when they arrived.  They didn’t bother looking—they all knew that they’d never see Malachi if he didn’t want to be found.  But in the end, they didn’t have to wait long.

            As Evan walked down to the river and called out for his friend, Dean wondered just when the boy had grown up so much.  His shoulders were stiff with resolve, and his hands were held firmly at his sides as he called “Malachi!”

            Malachi materialized beyond the tree line, a soft blue light bobbing through the clutter of trunks and branches, before he changed, just beyond the edge of the reeds, and emerged, one hesitant movement at a time, little bare feet squishing in the mud near the river bank.  Dean knew Malachi was a Wisp, but… God, he was also _just a little boy._ Suddenly, the things he’d read in the archive felt a hundred times more painful.  Malachi tugged on his single suspender as he wandered closer to them, his eerie blue eyes shifting warily between them all. 

            “It’s okay,” Evan said, hitching a brave smile on his face.  “They just want to talk to you.  They won’t hurt you.  I promise.”

            Malachi shuffled closer and Dean got a look at the absolute sorrow on the child’s face.  “I…I don’t think I’m strong enough.”  Malachi whispered, and his form shivered at the edges, like it cost too much to hold it.

            “I can help.”  Cas murmured, and he held out a hand.

            Malachi bit his lip warily, and stared at Cas’s outstretched hand for a long time, before he finally reached out and grasped it. 

            The instant their fingers touched, it was like night descended upon all of them.  Malachi’s memories, amplified through Cas’s magic, shivered and blurred around them, sucking them in, dragging them all down into the past, or maybe just someplace…in-between.

            “We need to know why you’re here.”  Cas whispered, but his voice echoed eerily around them, shivering through Dean’s bones.

            _“I forgot,”_ Malachi whispered, and his voice was everywhere now, too.  _“I was lost and….”_ The boy shuddered. _“And alone.  Trapped.  I couldn’t find her, no matter how hard I looked.  But I wouldn’t leave without her, either.  Couldn’t.”_

Cas gulped in a breath, and pushed forward.  “You were a teenager when you…passed… and yet, you look… so much younger.”

            _“This world doesn’t work that way.  I forgot who I was.  I even forgot who she was, after a time.  But never that I needed to find her.”_

            “Why haven’t we ever seen you before?  People used to, but that was so long ago.  What happened?”

            _“They forgot.  We all forgot.  I faded.”_

“Why are you back, then?  Why now?”

            _“I felt it.”_

“Felt what?”

            Suddenly they all felt it too—it swamped them, utterly overwhelming, as Malachi whispered _“Cold water squeezing the air out of lungs.  Fingers and toes going numb, scrabbling for purchase, but unable to hold on.  Screams.  Pain.  Panic.  I FELT him call for help, except no one answered.  No one came.  It was the same all over again.  Until…._ ”  Malachi heaved a deep, shuddering breath.  _“Until someone did.  I felt two more hearts in the river.  Both strong, both determined.  The third heart started again, suddenly.  The boy breathed a new breath, and I FELT it.  The magic was so strong it shook the river.  It woke me up._

_“Then the other went under.  Almost lost.  Just like her.  But you,”_ he gazed at Dean over Cas’s shoulder, _“you pulled him back._

_“Both of you… you did what I couldn’t.  What I’ve never been able to do._

_“The power of it rippled through all of Willowsbend._

_“I started to remember who I was, then.”_

The air was thick with memories drenched in grief, so powerful that Dean almost felt like _he_ was drowning.  _“I was looking for Lizzie when I found him instead—Evan.  So I led him back home to safety.  It was enough to help me remember who I am and why I_ ’ _m alone.  Why I just keep…searching.  And why I never manage to leave here for long.”_ Malachi heaved another shuddering breath.  _“I can’t leave.”_

Cas swallowed thickly, and his voice shook when he said “You won’t find her.  That was a long time ago.  And Evan… he’s safe now, I promise.  We’ll look after him.  You can go.  Please… be at peace.”

            Malachi smiled sadly, and he suddenly looked ancient.  _“I wish it was that easy.”_

“What can we do to help?”

            _“Nothing.  You can’t help me.  No one can.”_ The words, spoken with a child’s voice, were haunting.  _“Someday I might be able to rest, but not yet.  Not yet.”_ A deep sigh.  _“I’m not done yet.”_

“And Evan?”

            Malachi looked over to his young friend, and again, he seemed suddenly much older.  His lips almost seemed to quirk, just slightly—an attempt at a smile that was tinged with the burden of exhaustion and grief.  _“I’ll look out for him.”_

            When Malachi pulled away, Cas let him go, only realizing after the boy had dissolved into the morning air that Cas’s cheeks were wet with tears, and Dean was gripping his shoulder tightly—likely had been the whole time.

            Evan just looked unbearably sad.

 

 

 

            When Dean and Cas took Evan home later, he promised to stay there.

 

 

 

            The drive back to Dean’s house was silent, but the silence was choked with things that were begging to be said.

            The key ground in the lock, and Dean pushed the creaky front door open with a tired arm and a heavy heart.  He and Cas dragged themselves inside, shut the door behind them, and then somehow managed to make it all the way to the living room before they collapsed next to each other on the couch. 

            Dean pulled Cas into his lap and held him, rubbing his hands over Cas’s arms in an effort to warm him, and give him what comfort he could.  It said a lot that Cas allowed it without protest.  “I’m sorry.”  Dean whispered.

            Cas heaved out a shaking breath, and seemed to shrink in on himself.  “We should have known better.”

            “Maybe.”  Dean kissed Cas’s cheek, where tears still cut salty tracks.  “I love you.”

            “We did this, Dean.”  Cas whispered, voice hoarse.  “This is our fault.”

            “We didn’t know.  There was nothing we could’ve done differently.”  Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s hair, and smoothed his hand warmly over Cas’s back.  “You saved Evan that day.”  Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’s temple, and allowed himself to relax a fraction when Cas leaned into the movement.  “And I saved you.”

            Thinking of the lost little boy who had doomed himself to wander the darkness forever because he couldn’t let go, because his guilt had followed him into death, Cas shuddered and whispered “How is this ever going to be okay?”

            Dean closed his eyes and remembered the words that Tessa had said to him, not too long ago: _“The realm of the living is where you hold jurisdiction, officer.  The ways of death are beyond you.”_ And then, speaking to another lost soul, she’d said: _“Come, take my hand, and everything will be alright.”_   Finally, Dean remembered the reaper’s promise that she’d see him again. 

            Dean held Cas close, breathed him in, and said “I’m not the religious type Cas, but uh…I’m starting to believe that things have a way of working themselves out.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, this turned out much sadder than I'd originally intended, but somehow it still seemed right. Never fear though! The Willowsbend 'Verse will continue :)

**Author's Note:**

> It got away from me and turned into a multi-chaptered monster. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! Also, feel free to stalk my tumblr: http://realhunterswearplaid.tumblr.com/


End file.
